Chemo number eight is over and four more remain. Many people don't have a finish line laid so clearly before them.
I should be excited about that, I know.
Today I was able to blow dry and style my hair. Most people don't have any hair to brush at this point in treatment.
I should be grateful for that, I know.
So why do I find myself feeling numb instead of happy when the voices of loved ones celebrate that "there's only four more!"When did my heart change from a song of praise for each day I still have hair, to a frenzied assessment of whether I lost more today than yesterday? (I may or may not have a trash receptacle dedicated to measuring each week's lost and found strands). Where did fears of relapse and possible long-term chemo side-effects find an audience in my mind? How did that sly devil of doubt slither into the bed of my faith, messing up my freshly-laundered, tightly-tucked covers?
I should read my own blog and rest assured of His love, His presence, His healing, His provision.
I should be able to work longer, get up earlier, exercise harder (or at all), feel better sooner.
I should be praising louder, praying stronger, loving better.
But, it's time I stop "shoulding" all over myself.
The truth is that, even though I think I know who I should be, I am not that person. I often don't know who I am. Sometimes I even forget who He is. As I trudge along in this marathon, I am just as desperate for His presence and His reassurance as when I began. I found myself in a mini faith-crisis just this week as I questioned the role of the Holy Spirit in my life. I spent hours researching our faith history, curious to find out who or what is influencing my current thoughts and beliefs about God. Am I a cessationalist or sensationalist? Am I charismatic, neo-charismatic, radical, reformed, or just wrong and weird? By the end I knew only that I didn't know. And I knew that I needed to hear from Jesus (cross-out cessationalist, then), because every theological quest I've ever begun has at its core a question of deep, personal significance. This week my question was simple, "God, do you still see me? Do you really speak to me? Do you love me?"
I finally turned to the old, weatherworn pages of my Bible (weatherworn because I left it in the rain, not as a result of some extreme scriptural devotion). I read about "Jehovah Shammah," the Lord who is there.
"Be strong and bold, have no fear or dread of them because it is the Lord, your God who is with you. He will not fail or forsake you." Deuteronomy 31:6
"...and remember, I am always with you, to the end of the age." Matthew 28:20
"...this is the Spirit of Truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him or knows him. You know him, because he abides with you and he will be in you." John 14:17
"...be content with what you have, for He has said, 'I will never leave you nor forsake you.'" Hebrews 13:5
Theology meets Theophany. The Word became Life and my belief became sight: He will never leave me nor forsake me! As those precious words have soaked in my heart this week, I've learned a little about who I am and who I am not. I am not loved for who I should be, but as I am. I am not loved because of who I am, but because of who He is. But most importantly, I am loved. Even though I wish this moment of clarity and faith would carry me through until eternity, or at least the end of chemo, I have a feeling that when I wake up tomorrow morning I will need to hear it, believe it and see it once again. Jehovah Shammah will be there...which should help me stop "shoulding" so much.
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| Kendra and John chemo-sat for #8 |
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| The perfect place for a recovery weekend |
Ashley, Our hearts go out to you, as we praise Jesus for similar (cancerous masses gone, yet continuing with the originally prescribed treatments, as Rachel's body quakes under the stress and strain of alien chemicals continued attacks on healthy tissue) circumstances. Even though we understand the statistical reasoning that supports the continued treatment prescription, it is very difficult and unsettling for me to see my bride of 40 years being taken from me bit by bit, as her finger nails loosen, her feet become numb, her fingers tingle, her estrogen depleted emotions change, her eyes continuously tear and her hair not yet returned. Our focus must be on the rays of sunlight (lump gone and energy slowly returning following her final full chemo treatment 5 weeks ago) now preceding the dawn, as the sun rises on our renewed future, as one! Hang in there Ashley. You are doing great. You are growing in wisdom. You are an inspiration to many; and a lighthouse of salvation for a few! You ARE in the palm of His hand. Lawrence (& Rachel)
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